The Language of Roses
by Waiting.At.The.End
Summary: Nine times Yuki speaks French. Or everyone is in love with Yuki's French charms—whichever. (Translations offered at the end of each individual section.)


**The Language of Roses**

Yuki speaks French to his grandmother all the time.

"_Il n'y a pas de quoi rire.__"_ he exclaims, slightly upset that she isn't taking him seriously."_C'est de travail dur_." He looks down at his hands, frowning."_On est occupés du matin au soir, et il dit des choses qu'il ne devrait pas à tout le monde__._"

Kate just keeps smiling, which doesn't make him feel any better about the situation. "_Mais c'est ce qui est bien avec Haru__,_" she says softly."_Il a un pouvoir étrange. Le pouvoir de faire fondre le cœur de tout le monde__."_

He looks at her dubiously. His heart hasn't been doing any sort of melting recently. Quite the opposite, he feels as though he has a bad case of high blood pressure. "_Mais ce n'est pas trop super pour ceux qui __l'entourent_."

Kate looks at him understandingly, but she also knows that he'll come around, eventually. She only has to prompt him a little. "_Que ferais tu si Haru __disparaissait__?_" she asks."_Est-ce que tu t'amuserais toujours autant?__"_

_—  
Loose translation of episode 4 dialogue.  
—_

When he speaks French to Haru the first time, it's an accident. It's because the blond bursts in at just the wrong moment, when he's at his desk in the process of solving a particularly difficult math problem and Yuki has a tendency to slip back into his mother tongue when he's not careful.

"Yuki!" the blond sing-songs when he flings the door open. "Food is ready!"

Yuki opts not to look up and keeps on writing instead, determined to finish off this question before he allows himself to go downstairs. "_Une seconde_," he responds absently, trying not to lose his train of thought, knowing that he needs to give Haru a response if he doesn't want to be interrupted again. "_J'ai presque fini._"

He doesn't even realize that he'd spoken his mother tongue until he finishes the problem, then swivels his chair around so that he can face Haru. "Okay," he says, feeling satisfied with himself. "I'm done. Let's go eat."

But Haru is eyeing him curiously, head tilted, making no movement to head down the stairs. The staring unnerves him a little and Yuki ducks his head the slightest bit. Had he done something strange? What does Haru want now?

"Yuki, what was that?" Haru asks, and thus answering his second question.

Yuki only looks at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"That wasn't Japanese!" Haru says in explanation. "What was it? What was it?"

"Oh," Yuki blinks, making a small sound of realization. He must've slipped back into his first language earlier without noticing—he has a habit of doing that—and no wonder Haru would be confused.

"That was French," he answers. "It's my mother tongue. I use it when I'm distracted sometimes—sorry."

Haru's eyes sparkle at that, and Yuki looks at him uneasily, certain that a troublesome request is about to be brought up.

"Teach me French!" Haru exclaims, throwing his arms up. "I want to learn too!"

There's a beat, then Yuki sighs. He should have seen that coming. "Sure, sure," he consents (because it's easier than protesting), even though he knows that Haru's desire to learn anything is always relatively short-lived.

He teaches Haru a few words of French over dinner, and Haru starts saying "_bonjour_" to nearly everyone he has to greet. It sounds a lot more like "bon-choor" to Yuki, but he lets it slide.

_—  
"Just a moment, I'm almost done."  
—_

"_What_ have you been teaching my brother?"

"What?" Yuki looks up at Coco, confused (the aliens seem to have a magnificent ability to baffle him on an hourly basis).

Coco looks at him, exasperated, as though Yuki were supposed to intuitively know to what she was referring to. She decides to be generous enough to explain it to him. "You know, all the odd words he's been using." She pauses, noting Yuki's still-puzzled expression. She sighs. "He's been going around saying things like '_bonjour_' to everyone." Her eyes narrow and she leans in, causing Yuki to try to scoot his chair backwards only to have it bump into his desk. "You're the one who taught him, right? What does it mean?"

Yuki nervously diverts his gaze, unable to meet her suspicious stare. "I-it's French," he explains for the second time in three days. "It's my mother tongue."

Coco considers this, then finally backs up a little, giving Yuki a little breathing space. He gives a sigh of relief. His anxiety always seems to be worse with her, and though she is much smaller than he is, _she is just really intimidating okay?_

"Say something in French," she demands suddenly.

"What?" he asks again, startled into meeting her eyes.

"I want to hear you say something in French."

"Euhh—" He looks away again. He doesn't want to, especially when she was so _menacing _about it, but the water gun strapped to her leg catches his eye and he really doesn't have a _choice _in the matter at all, does he? So instead of inquiring 'why?' he simply asks, defeated, "What do you want me to say?"

Coco thinks about this a moment, a finger to her chin, before she shrugs. "I don't know. Whatever works."

That doesn't help Yuki at all, and he looks at her again, pleading for her to at least give him _something _to go off of, but Coco just raises an eyebrow. He drops his gaze. He has to say something before she gets impatient and he's genuinely worried she might decide to shoot him again. He struggles to think of a few sentences to say, anything so that she would leave him alone.

"Euh—_je m'appele Yuki et j'ai seize ans_." The words were barely out of his mouth before he feels like slamming his head on his desk, as those were the most basic, unoriginal statements he could have made, ever. Trying to remedy the overdone assertions, he quickly adds, "_Je vis avec des extra-terrestres et je les trouve vraiment bizarre__._"

That just makes it worse.

Even though Coco couldn't have understood what he'd said, he feels his throat beginning to constrict and water starting to bubble at his feet. He wants to say something else to fix _that _as well, but he can't seem to force any words past his lips. He's about to pull a strategic retreat, as defined by running out of his room as fast as his legs can carry him, but Coco draws his attention when she makes a quiet humming noise.

"So that's French, huh?" she says.

Yuki ventures a glance at her, but she's looking away, finger still on her chin as though she were contemplating the language. At least she doesn't seem as hostile as before, and the water starts to recede.

"Y-yeah..." he answers, though she probably didn't need him to.

After a moment, she turns her back to him, arms bent at the elbows and hands flicked outward. "It's not terribly elegant, is it?" she says as her verdict, and Yuki looks away with a nervous smile, a bit too afraid to protest.

She continues as she heads for his door (much to Yuki's relief). "Well, I guess that's all right then, as long as it isn't anything dangerous," and her words carry a veiled warning that Yuki doesn't miss. When she reaches the door frame, however, she pauses, looking over her shoulder. "By the way," she says. "_You're _the ones who are strange."

_—  
"I'm Yuki and I'm sixteen years old. I live with aliens and I find that they're truly strange_._"  
—_

Akira is the one who brings up French first.

"Yuki, you speak French, don't you?" he asks one day when it's just the two of them at Hemmingway.

Yuki doesn't know how Akira knows that, and to be honest, he isn't sure if he wants to know how Akira knows. So he answers simply, "Uh... Yeah."

"I see," Akira nods and pulls out a chair across from him, Tapioca cradled in his arms. "_J'ai étudié le français au lycée, mais je ne souviens plus beaucoup._"

Yuki stares at him, shocked. He wouldn't have imagined in a million years that Akira spoke French. Not that French is an uncommon language for people to know, but he'd never expected Akira to—well—just _walk up_ _and speak to him in it_. Though he reasons that as an agent for DUCK or whatever, Akira would know some foreign language. What's more, he actually speaks it quite well, with a slight accent, but very well for someone who hasn't practiced since secondary school.

"I... didn't know that you knew French," Yuki responds cleverly.

"I've always liked French," Akira says after a moment's pause. "It's a pity that I wasn't able to continue learning it."

"Oh..." Yuki says, unsure of what to add to that, and they lapse into silence. It's really awkward, at least Yuki thinks so, and he fidgets uneasily, pulling at the hem of his shirt. It's strange, really, he knows Akira and he considers Akira his friend, but he realizes that they've never really spent any time alone before. And now that they are, he isn't sure what to say. "So—uhm," he says hesitantly, trying the ease his own feeling of nervousness. "Why French, then?"

Akira looks at him without saying a word, which just makes Yuki's agitation heighten and he ducks his head. He should have just kept quiet and waited until Haru and Natsuki got back. But to his surprise, Akira answers his question.

"It's a beautiful language," Akira says, gazing absently out a window. That makes it easier for Yuki to look at him, and so he does. He raises his eyes so that he can watch as Akira expresses his fascination with the language, shaded against the fading twilight.

"They say that French is the language of love," Akira begins. "It was also the language of the educated. Some great philosophers wrote in French. Napoleon wrote the first law code in French. A lot of great things in history were influenced by French thought, whether it's politics or philosophy or literature." Akira pauses, but Yuki can't bring himself to say anything in response, awed by the seriousness of Akira's reasoning, and so he keeps quiet, hands now still against his legs.

"I'm interested, I guess," Akira says finally, "in the language that has a hand in quite a bit of modern thinking. Mostly in the Western world, I suppose, but it's all studied extensively either way."

He stops talking, and Yuki guesses that's where the explanation ends. "I-I see," he manages to say. "Those are..." he hesitates, "good reasons." Then he wants to hit his head on the table because that's the stupidest response he's given yet.

He ventures a glance at Akira, who is looking at him expressionlessly. _Oh God he must think that I'm such an idiot,_ Yuki thinks to himself, getting slightly red in the face. _I definitely just said the stupidest thing why couldn't I have thought of a better answer stupid stupid_—

He's about to get up and make a mad dash for the door, Haru and Natsuki be damned, but before he can, Akira starts talking again. "I'd like to hear you speak some French," he says, and Yuki has to do a double-take. "If you don't mind."

Yuki blinks at Akira. Then, he swivels his head to make sure that there isn't anyone else in the shop. Then, he points to himself.

"Me?"

Akira simply nods.

"But... why?" he asks. After all, Akira probably knew a good amount of French already, so it wouldn't be as though it were _exotic _or anything to hear Yuki speak it.

"Languages always sound best coming from a native speaker," Akira says as a simple explanation. "I'm also curious, since I've only heard you speak Japanese and English."

"Oh..." Yuki lowers his head again. He isn't particularly fond of speaking French so openly—it makes him self-conscious—but he isn't good at saying "no" either. Especially not after Akira had just spilled all of his thoughts about the language, which were actually quite flattering to hear.

He sighs. He doesn't know what he can say, but he supposes he'll be okay if he just recites one of the nursery rhymes Kate used to tell him. He chooses one of his favorites, and one of the less repetitive ones, and takes a deep breath. "_Au clair de la lune, 'Mon ami Pierrot. prête-moi ta plume, pour écrire un mot...'"_

He reaches the end of the second verse before he trails off, hesitating. He doesn't remember what comes next. He frowns, trying to recall the words that had been recited to him years ago by Kate's soothing voice as he laid in bed with moonlight filtering into the room and her hand on his head. What were the rhymes she'd told him, that had dripped like magic when he was younger?

But try as he might, he couldn't recall them. He sighs. "I don't remember the rest," he finally admits, somewhat frustrated.

Akira shakes his head. "It's all right," he says, then pauses, looking thoughtfully out the window again. After a moment, his eyes flicker back to meet Yuki's own, and Yuki's a bit surprised to see that he's smiling, slightly. "French sounds lovely, when you speak it."

_—  
"I studied French in secondary school, but I don't remember much anymore."_

_Nursery rhyme: Au Clair de la Lune  
—_

"You've been to France?!" Erica practically yells. She's leaning so far over Yuki's desk he's kind of afraid that she might fall.

He starts at her exclamation and almost clamps a hand over her mouth, but he's not close enough to her for that, so he just raises a finger to his lips instead. He casts a wary glance around the classroom and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that no one is watching them. He really doesn't like having too much attention on him, and he's afraid that her voice will draw curious inquires again. He'd gotten enough of those at the beginning of the year, and he wasn't eager to make public his past in France.

He relaxes slightly when no one approaches them, everyone else appearing engrossed in their own conversations. He turns back to Erica and nods. "Yeah..." he answers, and hesitates a bit because he doesn't know if she'll yell again, but then he adds, "I was born there."

Her eyes widen, and Yuki flinches, anticipating another outburst. It doesn't come though, and he's surprised to see that Erica has put her own hand over her mouth in a move of self-restraint for his sake. He feels a brief surge of appreciation for her.

She lowers her hand once she's sure she's in control of her voice again. "What's it like in France?" she asks. Yuki can almost see the sparkles shooting off of her in her excitement. "Is it romantic, like in the movies? Does it have gardens and cafés and amazing architecture?" Erica seems genuinely intrigued by Europe, though her view of it is quite cliché, and she gives a dreamy sigh and leans back in her chair. "Oh, I bet it's such an amazing country! I've always wanted to go there, you know, and see the Louvre and the Sacre-Cœur and the Arc de Triomphe! Oh—"

She seems to remember something and sits up straight again, clapping her hands together. "Yuki," she says, turning to him. "Say something in French to me!"

He blinks at her, slightly perplexed. This again? He really should get used to these requests of 'speak French' because they seemed to be coming up more and more often, much to his exasperation. It's almost a fad. He also isn't sure if he wants to comply, especially in a classroom full of people, but he has a hard time saying 'no.' Instead he asks, "What do I say?"

Erica thinks for a moment, then suggests, "Say something romantic!"

Yuki's pretty sure he blanches a bit at that. Speaking French in this situation would already be a chore, but now she wanted him to say something _romantic_? He thinks she needs to know that he's a failure at all things romance, but she's looking at him expectantly, smiling, so clearly that message had failed to be conveyed. Yet, she seemed so eager to hear, so admiring of his experiences, and he finds that he can't refuse her.

"_I-il fait beau ce matin, et tu es aussi beau que le jour,_" he says unexpectedly, surprising even himself. But upon realizing what he'd just said, his face reddens, even though he knows that she doesn't know the meaning of the words. _Whatever you do, please don't ask, please please please—_

"That sounded nice," Erica remarks. "What does it mean?"

Yuki feels the heat rushing to his cheeks and water starts to pool around him. "I-it doesn't matter!" he chokes out before he pushes off of his chair and dashes out of the classroom, feeling the foolishness of his words stepping close on his heels.

Later, once school let out, Erica finds him on the way back to his house and catches his sleeve before he can run away again. She apologizes for upsetting him, which he tells her isn't her fault, but she hands him a small chocolate anyway.

"Are we good now?" she asks when he takes it, smiling up at him.

Yuki blushes, but he feels calmer now and he doesn't feel the urge to make a mad dash for the safety of his home. "Yeah..." he says.

"Good." She keeps in stride with him, swinging her schoolbag carelessly at her side. After a few moments of silence, she looks up at him again. "Maybe you can tell me more about France," she says lightly. "I'd like to know."

He ventures a glance down at her but has to look away the moment he meets her eyes, so he chooses to concentrate on their synced steps instead, moving across the paved sidewalk in almost perfect beat. He swallows.

"Yeah. I'd be okay with that."

_—  
"It's lovely out this morning, and you're just as lovely as the day."  
—_

Sakura asks him to teach her a song.

"You like music," she says, "and you always sound so nice when you sing."

Yuki flushes, flattered. "Thank you," he tells her, and asks her what songs she'd like to learn.

Sakura tilts her head, thinking. "I want to learn a lullaby," she finally answers, smiling up at him. "Then I can sing it to my brother before he sleeps."

Yuki's eyes soften at that, because of course Sakura is thinking about Natsuki, that's what siblings do, after all.

"Sure, I'll teach you a song," he says, because he can't refuse a request like that. However, he adds, "I don't know many Japanese lullabies though," feeling that she should know before he teaches her anything.

Sakura shakes her head, good-natured as always. "It's okay," she says. "If you want to teach me other songs, that's fine too!"

"How about French?" he asks, and she nods, thrilled to have something new to show to her brother the next time he calls.

So Yuki starts spending Friday afternoons at the Usami household (with Haru tagging along), and he teaches Sakura something new every week. And every week, Sakura looks up at him with beaming eyes and tells him how much Natsuki likes the songs, and how she's so happy that Yuki teaches them to her. Yuki smiles and pats her head and says he's glad for that, and it feels a little like he has the sibling he'd always wanted.

_—  
None.  
—_

One day, Yuki finds himself almost mauled when Ayumi sprints up to him from behind and grabs him by the shoulder.

"Y-yes?!" he starts, slightly frightened by Ayumi's undoubtedly intense expression.

"It's Valentines day," Ayumi states, staring at him intensely. Yuki gives a quick nod in response.

"You speak French," Ayumi says in the same tone of voice.

Again, Yuki nods, wondering what on Earth this is about.

"What's something romantic?"

And Yuki stares, clueless as to what Ayumi means, and why does no one ever seem to make any sense when they ask him about French?

"Wh-what do you mean?" he asks.

Ayumi looks absolutely desperate, as though he's been through the most nerve-wracking day he's had in ages, and he says, "I need something romantic I can write in a card."

"U-uh—" Yuki stutters. He isn't exactly familiar with the art of writing greeting cards, but Ayumi is looking at him so fervently he can't do anything but force up an answer. "_Je t'aime de tout mon cœur?_" he suggests, dubious.

Ayumi grabs him by the hand, looking into his eyes, and the moment is so intense that Yuki briefly worries that Ayumi is going to kiss him. Instead, the elder pats him on the back, uttering a quick "thank you," then runs off in the direction from which he came.

_—  
"I love you with all my heart?_"  
—

"You've been teaching Sakura some songs," Natsuki remarks the next time they're on the phone.

The statement takes Yuki by surprise, though he isn't sure why because Sakura would have undoubtedly mentioned him. Maybe because it came so out of the blue. "Yeah," he answers anyway. "She wanted to learn some lullabies for you."

Natsuki's side of the line goes silent for a bit—a brief moment of shared breathing across an ocean—and when he does speak again, his voice is warm, affectionate. "Thank you for taking care of her, Yuki."

Yuki smiles. Natsuki is just as loving of Sakura as she is of him—Yuki can tell when he listens to them speak of one another, and though he's almost jealous of that, he feels mostly tenderness for their relationship. He knows that he's expected care for Sakura, now that Natsuki spends most of his time in America.

"It's no problem," he tells his friend. "It's fun being around her, and she keeps Haru entertained too."

Natsuki laughs at that, and the topic changes for awhile. Yuki asks him about his experiences in America, and Natsuki tells him all about it—the vastness of the country, the mountains and plains (he's only heard of them though, as he spends most of his time around the beaches), the heat even though it's winter, all the strange and colorful people that he meets. Yuki smiles and rests his chin on his hand, comforted by the sound of Natsuki's voice, of the stories he relates about the strange and colorful country. He can tell that Natsuki is happy there, that the new things are exciting to him, and he dimly hopes that Enoshima won't be drowned out by the vibrancy of a land all the way across the Pacific.

"Yuki," Natsuki says, and the redhead is pulled out of the gentle lull of listening to his friend.

"Yeah?" he asks.

There's a beat, then, "I wish you were here," Natsuki says softly.

Yuki's eyes widen slightly at the wistfulness he hears. Then, something in his chest loosens. Of course. It was foolish to think that Natsuki would forget those who still lived in Enoshima. The memories that Yuki cherished of that endless summer (just the four of them and the sea) were just as precious to him as they were to his friend, and neither of them could ever forget that. It would be Natsuki's dearest wish to have his friends with him as he chases his dream (but that would be impossible because they all have their own dreams to chase).

"_Je voudrais que tu sois ici_," he says on impulse, because he doesn't care _where_, he just wishes he were with Natsuki. "_Tu me manque, tu sais._ _Je pense à toi et à ta vie aux Etats-Unis, tous les jours__. __Et ça me fait un peu mal… Je veux que tu restes à mes côtés_."

He bites his lip. He doesn't know why he'd said those things, but they feel strangely right. He's not ready to say the same things in words that Natsuki understands, but he hopes that the emotion he wants to convey will suffice.

The other end of the line is silent for awhile, and Yuki starts growing anxious. He's about to utter a quick 'good-bye' and hang up, but then Natsuki speaks again. When he does, his words are as soft as they were before, but there's something else behind them, an emotion bordering on yearning and love, and it's because of that emotion that—even though the words themselves are simple—Yuki's breath catches.

"Akira was right," Natsuki murmurs. "French sounds gorgeous coming from you."

_—  
"I wish that you were here. I miss you, you know? Every day, I think about you and your life in America. And it hurts a little. I want you to stay by my side."  
—_

Yuki starts making it a habit to visit Kate in the hospital when the doctors insist she stay. Sometimes Haru comes with him, but other times he's alone. Either way, he always brings a book along with him so that he can read to her. She welcomes the company, and he welcomes seeing her smile.

This particular day, he's alone, and he has chosen a book of poetry. It's French, because he appreciates the tongue slightly more than Japanese.

She smiles when he pulls open the door. She's sitting on the bed, propped up by pillows, in a room smelling slightly of antiseptic and Yuki feels his heart tighten a little, seeing her so pale and thin wrapped up in the sheets. He clenches his jaw, not allowing the wave of sadness to get the better of him, because he has to spend their time together happily. And so he smiles back and grips the book a little tighter.

"_Qu'est-ce que tu nous a choisi aujourd'hui, Yuki?"_ she asks.

He makes himself comfortable on the chair beside her bed. "_Un recueil de poésie_," he answers. "_Je pensais qu'on pourrait essayer quelque chose de nouveau_."

She hums a noise of agreement as he opens the book to a page he'd bookmarked earlier, because he thought she might like it. He looks at her and finds her returning his gaze, so he takes a deep breath and starts reading, "_Prends cette rose aimable comme toi..._"

_—  
"What do you have for me today, Yuki?"_

_"A poetry book. I thought that we could try something new."_

_Poem: Prends Cette Rose... by Pierre de Ronsard_


End file.
